


wherever I'm with you

by throughfire



Series: Buck and Eddie [2]
Category: 9-1-1 (TV)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-10
Updated: 2020-02-10
Packaged: 2021-02-27 21:48:11
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,082
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22652752
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/throughfire/pseuds/throughfire
Summary: In which Buck can't settle down in his own apartment until he realizes the true meaning of the word home.Or; Sleeping is easier when it's with Eddie.
Relationships: Evan "Buck" Buckley/Eddie Diaz
Series: Buck and Eddie [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1630543
Comments: 102
Kudos: 915





	wherever I'm with you

The apartment isn’t a home. Buck loves the place, loves being in it and loves owning it. It’s modern and nice and _his_ , but he just doesn’t feel right when he’s in it. It feels too much like a shell around too much air with too little substance, and he doesn’t know how to fill it up. He keeps vibrating when he’s there, thrumming within his own skin because even that feels wrong around his flesh and bone. His heart shrivels a little, here, curling up on itself and its longing and leaving him pacing from couch to kitchen with no way to settle down.

He goes back to the firehouse after one hour of restless sleep and a badly cooked lunch in his hollow kitchen. The food sits strangely in his stomach as he walks in, and even though the noises inside the building are familiar and comforting, they’re not enough to coax a relieved breath out of him. His heart still feels small and insecure in the face of everything it has to do to keep him standing, keep him from shaking out of his skin.

Chimney crosses his path at the top of the stairs, stopping short on his way over to the sink with an empty coffee cup. He blinks at Buck, seemingly trying to place him, his civilian clothes.

“Buck?” he frowns. “It’s your day off, man, what are you doing?”

Buck averts his gaze. It flickers back and forth the way his entire body would like to do just to get away from himself, from curious questions and looks of concern, but only until it catches pleasantly on Eddie over by the countertops. And then, just like that, he can breathe. He can feel his lungs expand and his heart unfurl itself happily inside his chest. Eddie’s already looking back at him, expression unreadable, but his gaze upon Buck’s skin makes it feel comfortable to wear again, sitting right over bones that suddenly don’t tremble with restless energy.

 _It’s only been a day and a half since we saw him_ , he thinks at his bones, his entire body. Yet it feels like he’s been fighting to get to the surface of an endless ocean all his life – like he’s breathing for the first time in years, now, upon this top step of a staircase where Eddie’s faraway gaze is the warmest thing he’s ever worn, the most comfortable thing to have grazed his skin.

He clears his throat, looking back at Chimney. “I forgot my phone when I left last night, just came here to grab it.”

Chim’s expression eases from its concern, shifting into utter glee when he says, “ _Idiot_.”

He walks away, still shaking his head at Buck’s antics, and Buck allows himself to drift like the magnet that he is, weightless over the floor until he collides against Eddie. Arm against arm, a silent hello.

Eddie’s leaning casually with his hip against the countertop, his arms crossed over a muscular chest and an eyebrow arched in the most unimpressed of manners. He’s not buying it; he knows Buck too well for that. Is insightful and caring and too damn attentive, and even if he hadn’t been, Buck still wouldn’t have been able to lie to him. He’d never want to.

“I couldn’t sleep, and being at home felt strange,” he admits without prompting, shoving his hands into the pockets of his jeans. “Didn’t really know where else to go, though.”

The eyebrow sinks over caring eyes, a sunset to color the usual beauty in an even warmer tint. Eddie tilts his head, tilts those sunsets, and murmurs, “Are the nightmares back again?”

Buck shakes his head. “No, it’s been a while. It’s just… restlessness. Can’t sit still for five fucking minutes before I’m vibrating out of my skin.”

“Unlike your normal, lethargic self, huh? I see,” Eddie hums around a grin, teasing gently. He’s tilting his head the other way now, assessing Buck with a soft gaze for a moment before adding, “Go to my place. Anytime. It might not help much, but it’s another pitstop you should have. A permanent option.”

Buck swallows thickly, inexplicably overwhelmed. This is not news; it has gone unspoken for months. Yet, hearing it like this, with Eddie’s voice so steady and sure and comforting, makes Buck’s heart thud pointedly in his chest anyway, and suddenly that heart feels too big. As though it could fill up _any_ space, even his aching apartment.

“Thank you,” he hears himself say quietly, with emotion scattered all over his voice.

A moment later he feels Eddie’s hand wrap around his bicep, a guiding weight pushing him into movement and over to the couches. Hen’s already sat there, watching them move closer. She addresses Buck’s presence with a nod and a curious glance, but opts not to say anything, not to question why he’s there or why he’s leaning into Eddie’s touch as though it’s the lifeline that’s keeping him from sinking again.

Eddie’s fingers slip away when he sits down. He looks perfect there, slotted into the corner of the other couch with an easy smile on his face, an enticing spread of stubble along that defined jawline and an openness to the wide spread of his chest.

“Come on, Buck,” he urges softly. “Sit with us for a while before you go.”

It’s an invitation, a direction, something for Buck’s exhausted mind to follow gratefully, and he collapses mentally into it, into the safety of it, while the building ache behind his eyes rages on happily. He sits down next to Eddie, close enough that that their thighs and biceps are touching – conversing soundlessly in the shadow of the actual dialogue that has already started up between Eddie and Hen.

Buck can’t get himself to tune into what they’re saying, but he’s happy to sit there in the outskirts of his own exhaustion and soak up the familiar murmur of Eddie’s voice, feel it reverberate in his own chest and weigh him down, drag him under.

He’s vaguely aware of Eddie shifting beside him, maneuvering an arm in between the couch and Buck’s shoulder blades in a way that tilts Buck’s entire body into the other man, allows him to lean comfortably there, against Eddie’s side and with his temple against Eddie’s clavicle.

He slips slowly like that, in and out of consciousness in a state where everything’s so comfortable, so warm, so soft and right around him. There’s no thinking happening, no restless energy tugging at his limbs in attempt to get them to move. No ache in tired muscles and no hollowness in-between his ribs that makes him want to scream just to see if the sound will echo within him, because this – this feels like resting. Like driving out fitful demons and drifting onwards, lighter, with Eddie’s warmth as a protection. Eddie’s presence as a fort to hide in, to feel safe within.

Later, reality takes him back fully through the medium of Eddie’s fingertips against his scalp and the murmur of Eddie’s voice closer to his ear. It’s private, now. Gentle, and just for Buck where it urges him to face the world again – assures him that Eddie’s still there, still looking after him.

“Let’s go, Buck,” Eddie’s humming. “Cap sent me off a few minutes early.”

Buck makes a noise that he can’t even discern himself. Manages to blink Eddie’s gorgeous features into view from his perch on Eddie’s shoulder and rasp out a, “Where?”

“Home.”

He makes another noise at that, though the nature of it is less confused and more agreeing, and then he blushes under the fond expression that Eddie aims his way in response before he finally forces himself up from the couch.

He trudges after Eddie out of the building; chases Eddie’s warmth into the passenger seat of Eddie’s car and learns slowly to be happy with that, with watching the world drift by outside the window with an eighties rock song as the background noise and with Eddie next to him, only slightly too far away.

The learning curve dips again when Eddie slows the car to a park some minutes later; disappointment growing large and ugly in his stomach when he addresses his apartment building with disdain and fails to keep his frown out of his voice as it says, “This isn’t your house. That was misguiding.”

“This is closer to the station than my place is,” Eddie replies, laughter in his voice. He’s already moving towards the front door, his amusement drifting over his shoulder and effectively coaxing Buck to follow him.

Eddie’s using his spare key to let himself inside the apartment, leaving said key on the table by the door and then proceeding to navigate the place as though he’s here every day. The furniture perk up when they see him, the sun peeks in through the windows to greet him. Buck blinks at the scene from his perch upon the threshold and wonders if this really is the same, hollow place that he abandoned hours ago.

“I have a sweater here somewhere, right?” Eddie’s asking absent-mindedly, giving the couch a once-over as though he thinks that the piece of clothing will still be where he left it last week.

It’s enough to bring Buck into his own apartment, close the door and test the air out. He breathes it in, lets it fill his lungs until they’re straining around it, and blinks at the room in astonishment. Thinks the shift is palpable, that something has changed physically in here.

“Somewhere,” he hums, refusing to grab the sweater from where he left it in the bathroom this morning. “Just take one of mine from the closet for now.”

Eddie nods, and moves easily up the stairs to Buck’s bedroom. Buck watches him go, left in his wake and drifting in his own confusion. He slides his feet over the floor, brushes his hand along the surface of the kitchen counter, reintroducing himself to every inch of a whole that has never seemed complete to him before. He doesn’t understand this place, this day, or himself within it – how he ended up here again or where he’s supposed to go now.

“Hey, Eddie,” he calls, heading up the stairs. “What are we doing back here?”

Eddie has already found a pair of sweatpants and secured them lazily over his hips; is sliding his arms into a navy-blue sweatshirt and disappearing into it. Buck mourns the loss of that scenery, that golden skin and those lines of muscle on display, but cherishes the soft smile that Eddie aims his way in replacement.

Eddie shrugs, gathering his uniform and discarding it at the foot of Buck’s bed. A moment later he’s let himself fall down on top of the covers and is shoving his arms under the nearest pillow, breathing out contentment across the fabric of it.

“I’m picking Chris up from school in…” he drifts off, craning his neck briefly to look at the clock on the nightstand, “… three hours. That leaves plenty of time for a nap.”

Buck doesn’t question it. He doesn’t _want_ to question it; he doesn’t even want to think. What he wants is to let his heart run with this, into longing, and settle upon his own bed with Eddie. So he does. He shuffles over and eases himself down on the bed, lies comfortably on his side upon the comforter.

Eddie has already closed his eyes. There are traces of a smile left at the corners of his mouth, and he’s gently lit by the curious beginnings of afternoon sunlight shining in through the windows. He’s beautiful, _so_ beautiful, and Buck is so full of wonder at the very sight of him – the presence of him – in this bed and in this apartment, making it seem so right and purposeful.

Eddie sighs. He’s smiling fully now, though his eyes remain closed when he says, “For fuck’s sake, Buck, you fall so recklessly into everything else, why can’t you just fall asleep for an hour?”

Eddie knows Buck that well – has been that finely tuned into Buck since the very beginning. Eddie knows the ins and outs of Buck, knows the thought processes and the reckless falls from impulsive heights. He must know how far down into love Buck has fallen, too, though he doesn’t seem inclined to bring it up or question it; doesn’t seem appalled by the idea of Buck loving him this way. Eddie is here, unchanged and making everything better so quietly, yet so deafeningly.

Buck closes his own eyes, and smiles at Eddie’s words. Smiles at the very memory of what Eddie just looked like next to him, and allows himself to reach an arm out into the space between them where the back of his hand can brush against Eddie’s forearm. He can hear Eddie exhale, can feel the mattress shift as Eddie moves, and finally gets Eddie’s ankle over his own at the foot of the bed; a weight to settle him upon the mattress that subsequently settles his heart, too. Content in this home, in this moment. He’s asleep within seconds.

*

When he wakes up for the third time this day, the light has shifted slightly in the room. The shadows are different, taller at places where they peek out curiously from behind edges, and the room bathes in gold to speak of hours passed by. His body feels heavy, his skin light and comfortable over his bones because it isn’t holding back exhaustion, now, and it isn’t trying to accommodate a heart that struggles to sit right in his chest. His heart’s happy, here, with Eddie still present in this bed, in this home.

When he looks up, he finds Eddie leaning back against the headboard with a book in his lap, his entire leg resting over Buck’s and a hand forgotten on Buck’s back. The scent of coffee is drifting with the air in the room, and Buck takes a moment to acknowledge the cup that is discarded next to the clock on the nightstand before he turns his head into the pillow, buries his nose there and realizes that he has moved in his sleep – is breathing in discarded trails of Eddie’s scent in the pillow that Eddie was resting on before.

“I don’t own any poetry books,” he rasps into warm fabric, shivering slightly when Eddie’s fingers reflexively curl against his back at the sound. Eddie’s palm is warm there; heavy in-between shoulder blades. Buck wants it on him forever.

“It’s mine,” Eddie hums. “I found it when I was making coffee, I must have left it here at some point.”

He doesn’t sound tired so he can’t have slept much – maybe not at all – but he’s still here. He has gone off and found bits of himself in this apartment and then he’s come back and sat on this very bed with Buck, given Buck everything he’s needed by a hand, a leg, a caring heart. The entire room is in awe of him, leaning into him and framing him and his book so beautifully that Buck wonders if it will ever let him leave. The place won’t be the same without him, it will be desolate and clouded – an open wound in the aftermath of emotional abandonment, much like its owner.

Buck’s heart twinges at the thought, threatening to curl in on itself again just to stop itself from getting lost in the moment, in this present time where it has everything it wants. He doesn’t want to face a future in this apartment without Eddie, not now that he suddenly, forcefully, is realizing what made it feel so wrong this morning – what was missing from it that made it feel so hollow.

He shifts under Eddie’s palm, just enough to press his forehead against Eddie’s hip where he can make a dissatisfied noise into his own clothes. His sweatpants need to smell the hurt on his breath, the sour taste of the prospect of never waking up with Eddie beside him again.

“Sleep well?”

Buck hums, shifting further into Eddie’s warmth.

“Want some coffee?” Eddie goes on. “We need to leave to pick Christopher up in a few minutes.”

“We do,” Buck says. They are two words brimming with confusion, and his voice is thick and raw and sensitive, clumsy around an unspoken question-mark.

Eddie curls his fingers at the back of Buck’s neck and aims an amused smile Buck’s way, snorting at his eloquence.

“We do,” he confirms. “You can go back to sleep at home.”

“Home.”

It makes Eddie laugh. He sounds fond, as though he thinks that Buck’s confusion is precious, and he’s so stunning that Buck loses his breath for a while.

“It’s closer to the school than your place is,” Eddie explains badly.

Buck is sleep-muddled and in love, and he’s finding it difficult to fight past the blurring effect of Eddie’s handsome features to make sense of what’s happening – of Eddie here, in his bed and apartment and heart where he’s making coffee and fond expressions and promises of homes.

Two of them.

 _Mine and yours_ , Eddie has said. _Ours_ , has gone unspoken, _whichever place happens to be the closest to us_.

As though hearing those thoughts, Eddie leans down and kisses him softly. It’s a confirmation of sorts; a punctuation to tie up any loose ends that have been swirling in Buck’s head all day. Eddie tastes of coffee and of pieces falling into place, and Buck’s heart is beating rapidly in his chest, applauding his brain for finally catching up with it.

“You love me too,” he realizes. His lips brush against Eddie’s when he speaks, against the smile that stretches them in response to Buck’s words. “You – you _love_ me.”

Eddie presses another kiss to Buck’s open mouth, then he sits back up again. The room glows around them, around the turn of events, and Eddie is so beautiful that Buck is losing his breath again, so handsome under the weight of Buck’s realization.

“Took you long enough,” he’s murmuring, ever so calm and patient with Buck, with Buck’s reckless ways and his emotionally driven actions. There’s not a hint of resentment in his tone, nothing bitter about his fond expression. Eddie _loves_ Buck, has loved him back all along while he’s allowed Buck the time to figure things out on his own. Has been a _home_.

**Author's Note:**

> *promptly goes back to writing from Eddie's point of view because this clearly didn't work at all* I'm so sorry about the mess.


End file.
